


all your history's like fire from a busted gun

by crownedcarl



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: (BY WHICH I MEAN: IT GOES FROM DUBIOUS TO EXPLICIT WITHIN A FEW PARAGRAPHS), (EXTREMELY) Mildly Dubious Consent, BDSM, Cock & Ball Torture (Light™), Coming In Pants, Dom/sub, M/M, One Shot, Rough Oral Sex, Sex in a Car, Size Kink, Subspace, Under-negotiated Kink, Unrequited Love, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 15:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21412642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcarl/pseuds/crownedcarl
Summary: Dwight didn’t think he would end up here, tonight of all nights, but here he is, watching Duke watching him, the atmosphere in the car gone thick with arousal.“Got a lot of pent up tension, Duke?” Dwight asks, pressing his thumb firmly against Duke’s nape, into the soft skin right above the delicate bone of Duke’s neck. “All wound up with nowhere to go?”
Relationships: Duke Crocker/Dwight Hendrickson, Duke Crocker/Nathan Wuornos (Unrequited)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	all your history's like fire from a busted gun

It’s been a long day and it keeps on getting longer, Dwight thinks, staring out the window, unable to escape Duke’s reflection looking back at him, smiling a little too wide for it to be genuine, poking Dwight’s arm in an attempt to strike up a conversation. It shouldn’t get under Dwight’s skin, Duke rambling about how he’s stuck with the last person he’d choose to spend a Friday night with, if Dwight catches his drift, speaking with a sharp grin directed at Dwight, following it up with a casual “No offense.” It’s the third time in ten minutes that Duke’s been unable to read Dwight’s desire to be left alone, but it’s the first time that Dwight goes to the trouble of turning his head, staring Duke down and declaring “You’re pissing me off, you know that?”

“Oh, it _does_ speak,” Duke remarks, stretching his arms above his head, his knee banging against Dwight’s. He takes up a lot of space, considering his size, crowding Dwight up against the window, sighing “Honestly, I’m the one in pain, you know? Stuck out here with a guy who can’t hold a conversation to save his life.”

“Have you considered,” Dwight sighs, “That I don’t _want_ to have a conversation with you, Duke? This isn’t a field trip and we’re not friends. I’m doing this as a favor. Actually,” Dwight breaks off, glancing at Duke, “Why are _you_ here, anyway? No offense, but what do you bring to the table? If you get lucky and someone bleeds on you, you might be able to toss them through a wall?”

It’s a little too harsh, but Dwight can’t think past his own irritation enough to consider that getting Duke angry with him might not be conducive to shutting him up. Inhaling deeply, Dwight adds “See, this is why I wanted peace and quiet. I’m not trying to start anything. Alright?”

Duke is quiet, but Dwight should know by now that it won’t last for long. “Anyway,” Duke goes on, clearly ignoring Dwight’s attempt at finding common ground, tilting his head back and announcing “You seriously didn’t have any other plans? What, you really spend all day running around town, going where Audrey tells you to? Hey, do you fetch and sit for her, too?”

Dwight isn’t boiling over - he never does. He doesn’t usually overreact, but he thinks it’s a pretty proportional response, the muted “I think you’ve got it backwards, Duke. Seen you nipping at her heels plenty of times, lately,” and in an instant, Duke’s expression blanches, his eyes going distant and cold, mouth a thin line.

Maybe this time, Dwight thinks, but Duke starts up again as soon as he’s recovered. “There’s no shame, man,” Duke says, steamrolling past Dwight’s response, which tells him he _did_ strike a nerve, “She’s smart. Cute. Now that I think of it, the total opposite of you, right?”

“You really want to make this personal?” Dwight snaps, “You really want to fuck this up for all of us, Duke? Someone comes along, hears you blabbering, we’re screwed - and this is supposed to be a _covert_ stakeout. You want to be an ass, do it on your own time. Not now. Not here.”

Finally, something seems to get through to Duke. It’s probably the notion of having to face a disappointed Audrey and a furious Nathan, tomorrow, if the two of them do manage to run their suspect off by arguing loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear. Duke sighs, nodding and looking like he hates the concession, his mouth tight.

Dwight closes his eyes and counts to ten. In the passenger seat, Duke is vibrating with restless energy. He’s been fiddling with the radio for a couple of minutes, now, despite Dwight’s repeated insistence on keeping quiet, Duke’s smile stretching wider and wider with each aggravated exhale from Dwight. There’s a pent-up energy building between them, Dwight’s brow furrowed with agitation while Duke’s expression becomes more and more gleeful while the radio DJ enthusiastically talks about today’s sponsor. Duke seems to be unable to function without some kind of background noise, if he can’t provide it himself.

It’s late and it’s cold and Dwight is quickly running out of patience. Duke seems to take that as a sign to start chatting again, his voice filling the car with more nonsensical ramblings.

“Enough,” Dwight sighs, staring out the window at the warehouse the two of them are meant to be keeping an eye on. Audrey was the one who asked him to check the area out for leads, which means Dwight said yes without considering the consequences of being paired up with Duke and it’s nobody’s fault but his own that he’s stuck next to Duke’s relentlessly cheerful self, but the cheer seems forced, this time around. He can’t seem to sit in silence, needing to fill the space between them. “Duke, stop. This isn’t a sleepover. Can we focus for a second? Can you be an adult about this?”

Duke blanches, but only momentarily. His smile is pasted on, his teeth painfully white, pink tongue wetting his dry lips. “I am focused,” he retorts, “Come on, we can’t have a conversation? You’re breaking my heart, squatch.”

Dwight glances at Duke with an expression that’s flat and unamused. Duke’s eyes seem stuck on the dashboard, now, before he abruptly steals a glance at Dwight’s mouth, rolling his eyes with a comically mournful sigh. “Alright. No talking. Hey, I love this song-”

It takes a second for Dwight to grasp the fact that Duke’s decided to sing along to the song on the radio, an upbeat tune that Dwight can’t place, staring in disbelief when Duke starts drumming along by pounding his hands on the dashboard. “For the love of-” Dwight mutters, reaching to push Duke’s hand away from the volume knob, turning the radio the entire way down, giving Duke a little shove when all Duke does in response is roll his eyes.

“Jesus,” Duke scoffs, running a hand through his hair, “No talking, no music - what, you want me to stop breathing, next? Want me to sit like a statue, try to keep my blood from being too loud while it’s pumping through my body? Really, just ask,” he says, showing teeth when he smiles. “I’ll do my best to follow your example of being a stuck up, emotionless-”

Dwight reaches across their seats to close the distance between them, his hand landing on Duke’s tense neck when he snaps “Down, boy,” with a thread of exasperation coloring his voice.

Duke shudders harshly, his whole body tensing. Dwight is already pulling back by the time he feels Duke’s muscles relax, watching Duke’s whole body slump in his seat, Duke’s eyes going huge and dark, staring out the window. It hits Dwight, suddenly, what he’s inadvertently discovered, because he always had an inkling, walked around town with a suspicion for weeks - but here’s the evidence, all but presented to him on a silver platter, his mouth going dry when Duke quietly mumbles “Yes, sir,” on a harsh exhale.

It sounds raw. It also sounds a little bit like Duke can’t decide if he wants it to be a joke or not, his hands clasped in his lap, feet shifting restlessly while Duke starts making himself smaller in his seat, radiating discomfort and regret.

Dwight allows Duke a minute to process. He needs a minute, too, because this changes everything and it throws all their past interactions into a new light, Dwight’s mind racing through all those times Duke would needle Dwight into engaging with his snide comments and backhanded compliments. A minute is long enough for them both to get past the initial shock, he figures, now that he knows what Duke’s really been gunning for tonight. Maybe Duke’s been wanting it for longer than that without realizing it, himself, if Dwight really thinks back to Duke’s sharp smiles and all his countless little jabs, constantly trying to provoke Dwight into responding.

All the pieces fall into place and Dwight stretches an arm languidly along the back of Duke’s seat, teasing his fingers along the curve of Duke’s long neck, slipping into Duke’s curly hair. It’s not kind, by anyone’s metric, but it’s not cruel, either, when Dwight scratches his nails through Duke’s hair and quietly asks “That’s what it takes, huh?” while his mouth curves in a small smile.

This, he understands. He knows how to handle Duke, now, after all the fight has been unceremoniously drained from him.

Surprisingly, Duke’s quiet in response to Dwight seeking an answer, stubbornly staring out the window at the rapidly darkening street. Dwight knows he ought to shut up and watch the warehouse and its shuttered windows, but the two of them have been here for over an hour and the clock is approaching midnight. If nobody’s come yet, nobody will. There are two other locations to watch. Theirs doesn’t seem to be where Anita Price is hiding, tonight.

Dwight didn’t think he would end up here, tonight of all nights, but here he is, watching Duke watching him, the atmosphere in the car gone thick with arousal.

“Got a lot of pent up tension, Duke?” Dwight asks, pressing his thumb firmly against Duke’s nape, into the soft skin right above the delicate bone of Duke’s neck. “All wound up with nowhere to go?”

Duke’s throat bobs when he swallows. Dwight watches closely, shifting his grip in order to place his hand firmly on the outside of Duke’s thigh, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow expectantly, but after a minute, Dwight’s hand is back in Duke’s hair, playing with the curly strands while waiting for Duke to say something. Duke’s always been talkative. It’s a miracle he’s not willing to say it out loud, now that Dwight’s offering it freely. He watches Duke shake his head, tense and uncomfortable, moving like a puppet on a string, all the usual grace and confidence lost from his movements. “No,” Duke says, his voice all breath. “No.” This time, he groans it.

It takes Dwight a second to work out if it’s a genuine denial, but Duke glances at him beneath his lashes, a flush sitting high in Duke’s cheeks. The door isn’t locked. Duke could get out and leave and never talk about it again, but there’s a tremble to Duke’s voice that tells Dwight he isn’t wrong about this, that he isn’t pushing past some invisible line that Duke’s drawn up.

“That why you keep pushing?” Dwight goes on, his voice sharp. He’s still not happy with Duke, talking in a low, firm tone, asking “You wanted me to rough you up?”

“No,” Duke says again, his voice small and thin, hands folded in his lap. He’s doing a terrible job of hiding the fact that he’s getting hard, wincing when he pushes the heel of his palm against his cock. “No. Don’t ask me - fuck, please don’t ask me that.”

Please, Duke says. Dwight watches him closely, eyes tracking Duke’s nervous tics, the way his fingers are twisting in the hem of his shirt. “You want me to touch you?” Dwight asks, circling back to the simplest, most straightforward question at hand - does Duke want Dwight’s hands on him, taking all the pressure and anxiety and deep soul-searching out of it. It’s a goddamn powder keg of contradictions, trying to make sense of what Duke wants, but Duke glances at him from beneath his lashes and quietly mumbles _”Yes.”_

It takes a second for it to sink in, but Dwight is in no rush. “You want me to touch you,” Dwight intones, leaning in a little closer, watching Duke’s lashes twitch against the tops of his cheeks. “You want to listen to me, for once? Let me take some of that pressure off? Yeah, you do,” Dwight goes on, watching Duke nod sharply, something deeply terrified and shameful flitting across Duke’s face, an expression he can’t seem to hide. “You going to let me?”

Duke’s hand flies to Dwight’s wrist, fingers curling tight around the bone. Dwight glances down, watching Duke clinging to him, hearing his voice fill the silence, whispering “Tell me. Tell me what - just tell me.”

His voice is conversational when Dwight shrugs and says “You shouldn’t lie to me, for the record. You’re not any good at it, Duke. Could’ve gotten here a lot faster if you were honest with me. You,” he enunciates, “Can’t seem to relax, can you? I think that you need to pull your cock out and do something about it before you start climbing up the walls.”

Duke’s chin is tucked to his chest. His head shoots up in an instant, his eyes wide when he stares at Dwight in genuine incomprehension, the flush spreading to his exposed throat. Dwight raises an eyebrow. “Did I stutter? Do it.”

“I-” Duke says, his hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. He squeezes his eyes shut and quickly blurts “I can’t - that’s not-”

“Not what you need,” Dwight guesses, running his thumb along the line of Duke’s jaw. He’s got a day’s worth of stubble scratching against Dwight’s skin. “You can suck me off,” Dwight offers in a firm tone of voice, “If it helps you calm down and focus. You need a firm hand, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been acting up.”

Duke nods. It’s a stiff nod, but it’s still a confirmation. Dwight smirks, carefully checking their surroundings, figuring that if anyone has any business on the docks this late, they’re likely up to worse things than him and Duke. “Alright. More than one perk to keeping your mouth busy,” Dwight announces, leaning back in his seat with his thighs spread, one hand on the steering wheel. “Go on. You have permission.”

It’s surreal, seeing Duke hesitate before he practically throws himself at Dwight, clumsy but eager fingers working on Dwight’s belt. “Hey,” Dwight says, catching Duke’s eye, “Who said you were allowed to use your hands?”

Dwight doesn’t get off on pain. He does get off on the tease, the gradual build-up of desperation. He can already see Duke pleading wordlessly, staring at Duke with his lips parted, trying to entice Dwight into letting him have what he wants. He will, eventually, but only on Dwight’s terms. “You can be good, can’t you?” Dwight pushes, putting a hand in Duke’s hair. “I’m not falling for that pretty face. Show me that you’re worth my time.”

Duke exhales like he’s been punched, a frantic energy in his movements. He doesn’t say anything, but he glares at Dwight when he shifts to awkwardly fit between their seats, wetting his lips before mouthing at Dwight’s belt, his lips exploring the tough leather and polished metal buckle. It’s not an impossible task, Dwight knows that much. It’s part of the thrill, seeing how low Duke will go to get what he wants, Dwight’s eyes fixed on Duke’s determined expression.

All these months of butting heads later, Dwight finally gets why Duke pushed so hard when the two of them were left alone. He must not know how to ask for it properly, Dwight thinks, but Duke will learn. He’ll learn, eventually.

Duke is breathing heavily, his chin slick with spit, teeth leaving marks on Dwight’s belt in his effort to push it back through the buckle, Duke exhaling noisily with frustration when his tongue won’t go beneath the prong. Dwight wonders if he’d taste of leather and stainless steel, if Dwight tried to kiss him, one hand petting through Duke’s hair in encouragement. “Easy,” he urges, an edge of laughter to his voice. “You’ll get there eventually.”

Duke mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like _fuck you._ Dwight lets that one slide, for now, laughing beneath his breath. He decides to take mercy on Duke, after a moment, because despite everything that’s been said, Dwight _does_ want to get off, sliding a hand beneath Duke’s chin and tilting his head up, thumb tracing Duke’s spit-slick lips. “No hands,” Dwight reiterates, unbuckling the belt, watching Duke shiver when the clink of metal fills the car, his tongue lapping at Dwight’s thumb while Duke sighs softly.

He doesn’t need any encouragement from Dwight, this time around. Duke angles his chin down and mouths messily at Dwight’s crotch, tongue finding the button of the jeans and working it free from the hole, quickly - too quickly, Dwight thinks, groaning “Should’ve known you’d be good at this,” while he watches Duke’s mouth, listening to his zipper being undone, Duke tugging at the tab until Dwight’s jeans are all the way undone. Duke lifts a hand to his neck, wincing, rolling his head on his shoulders.

“I’m not complaining,” Duke’s quick to say, realizing Dwight is watching with a wry smile. “I mean-”

It’s kind of adorable, Duke only managing to string a sentence together when he thinks he’s done something wrong. It’s kind of sad, too, but Dwight doesn’t focus on it for too long, stroking Duke’s hair when he says “I know you’re not,” and tilts his head in a nod, urging Duke to go on. He seems to need the guidance, now and then, when he can’t make the decision on his own, looking to Dwight for a nudge in the right direction.

Dwight can offer that. He can provide that for Duke, just this once, out here where there’s no one else around and nobody to answer to. Dwight doesn’t have to be anything but what Duke needs and what Duke needs is simple and easy to navigate, even if it’s been years since Dwight last did this. He understands bodies and their structure, what Duke tries to tell him without using his words. He understands that Duke’s soft exhale when Dwight strokes his back means _thank you._

Duke is eager - has been from the beginning, but it shines through so much more clearly when he’s been given permission to take what he wants, his tongue licking a broad stripe up the underside of Dwight’s cock through his briefs, Duke leaving wet patches on the cotton without any intent to stop. “Yeah,” Dwight groans, fisting a hand in Duke’s hair, glancing down to see Duke trying to drag his waistband down, teeth around the elastic. “That’s good,” Dwight comments, “But you can do better.”

"Yes," Duke agrees, his voice hoarse, shuffling closer on his knees, staring at Dwight's uncovered cock as a visible shudder goes through him, all the way down Duke's spine. It's heady, knowing Duke wants him that badly - badly enough that he forgets to be ashamed, moaning when he gets his mouth around Dwight's cock, pulling back after a second, his face dark with a flush. Before Dwight can remind him to do what he's been told, Duke murmurs "You can pull my hair," and after a beat, he adds "Sir. Please."

"Oh, you're giving _me_ permission?" Dwight laughs, watching Duke mouth at his cock, how he's walking a fine line between shy and shameless. It's a look that wouldn't be flattering on anyone but Duke and his angular, pretty face, lips slick with spit and precome. "You really are something else, Duke."

It’s been a few months since Dwight called him Crocker. It’s been a while since Duke called him anything other than Sasquatch but tonight, Duke murmurs _sir_ as if it comes naturally to him and Dwight curls a hand around the back of Duke’s skull and whispers “You want to make me proud, don’t you?” while he applies just enough pressure to get Duke to open his mouth wide and sink down on Dwight’s cock, the corners of his mouth going bloodless, his lips pink and raw, saliva trailing down Duke’s chin. “I’m going to fuck your face,” Dwight announces quietly, “And you’re going to take it, because you want to. Don’t you, Duke?”

It's no easy feat, nodding around a cock in your mouth, but Duke does it eagerly, eyes wide while he stares up at Dwight, the streetlight outside casting Duke in pale yellow light that carves out the sharp angles of his face - his high cheekbones, his long nose, the delicate slope of Duke's brow. He's sloppy and enthusiastic, hands finally lifting up from Duke's lap to clutch Dwight's thighs, knuckles gone bloodless with how hard Duke is holding on. He's breathing heavily, glancing at Dwight with a questioning and vulnerable light in his eyes, one hand tentatively wandering from Dwight's thigh to his ass, pushing beneath Dwight's jeans to _squeeze_, Dwight groaning in harsh delight. He did say no hands, but Duke's whole expression lights up when Dwight relaxes against Duke's hand, laughing breathlessly into the fractured silence. "Oh, clever boy," he huffs, "Getting what you want on a technicality."

Duke practically preens, nails digging into Dwight's skin. He hasn't been touched this way in years, staring at Duke and his pretty mouth, wondering why it is that he only ever gets what he wants when it isn't meant to last. He won't take Duke home; won't keep him the way Duke wants to be kept. This is all Dwight can give him and he's going to make it count, pulling Duke's hair to hear him whine around Dwight's cock, all the pride and smugness vanishing from Duke's expression, being replaced by raw delight when Dwight murmurs "Someone's gotta teach you that you can't go around breaking rules, Duke."

It's not difficult to figure out that Duke _wants_ to be put in his place. It's not difficult to figure out that he has no clue how to ask for it and Dwight wonders, for a second, if Duke has a history of unfulfilled needs and desperate longings hiding right below the surface of his skin. Duke shivers under Dwight's hand, letting his hair be pulled, but he takes to it so goddamn easily that Dwight shakes that thought and sighs "Might let you come if you stop half-assing it," before laughing quietly at Duke's wide-eyed look of betrayal, the one that practically screams that Duke never even considered that he might be denied. "Incentive," Dwight chuckles. "Does wonders, doesn't it?"

Duke's breath has been getting gradually more strained and shallow, his eyes glassy when he pulls off Dwight's cock with a soft gasp, a thin thread of spit and precome hanging between the head of his cock and Duke's chin. It's a different kind of thrill, making a mess out of Duke, watching Duke's cock swell in his jeans. "I can't," Duke says, his voice small and pleading, "I can't - it's too much."

It's nowhere near too much, Dwight thinks, smiling almost affectionately. Duke wants so badly to be pushed and Dwight is happy to oblige, pushing his thumb inside Duke's open mouth, the head of his cock nudging against Duke's jaw. It makes Duke moan, leaning in to rest his cheek against Dwight's thigh, his face shiny with spit. "You can," Dwight tells him. "You will."

It’s not a threat, far from it. It’s a promise to Duke that Dwight intends to keep, watching Duke closely until he sees a spark of excitement in Duke’s eyes, all the affirmation he needs to push a little further, running his thumb along Duke’s teeth, pressing down on Duke’s tongue. “Open wide,” Dwight instructs, one hand in Duke’s hair, gripping him tight while Dwight guides him closer, cock nudging against Duke’s lower lip. “You can take it. Show me you can be good.”

“I can,” Duke gasps, his head pulled back by Dwight’s fist, his throat tense and exposed to Dwight’s other hand. He trails his fingers lightly along Duke’s skin, contently unhurried, listening to Duke insistently moan “I can, I can, I will be.”

Maybe this is the closest thing Duke knows to love. Maybe that’s why it matters so much to him, giving Dwight everything he can offer, even if Duke isn’t brave enough to say any of it out loud. It takes all of Dwight’s strength not to kiss Duke in that moment, guiding his cock into Duke’s slack, open mouth, gasping when Duke hollows his cheeks and flicks his tongue gently along the underside, practiced and eager, sucking cock like he was born to do it, his face flushed and peaceful.

Dwight’s voice is steady, by some miracle, when he says “You like being on your knees,” without quite phrasing it as a question, playing with Duke’s hair, his foot nudging between Duke’s thighs, against his undoubtedly aching cock. Duke jolts and whimpers like he’s been struck, but he tilts his hips into it, Dwight’s heel pressing curiously against Duke’s crotch. “You know this is the only thing you’re good for, don’t you? That’s why you’ve got something to prove.”

Duke is panting, sucking Dwight’s cock with a single-minded intensity and desperation that Dwight’s been dying to see, even if he’s kept his composure up until now. “You wanna come?” Dwight asks, pressing the tip of his boot up against Duke’s balls and the base of his cock, watching it twitch in Duke’s jeans, the denim stained with precome - and Dwight still hasn’t touched Duke, not properly. “Think you can? Yeah, you can,” he moans, voice dropping into something conversational, “You don’t need much, do you? It’s almost-”

His voice twists, wavers. Duke’s tongue is working him _beautifully._ “Pathetic,” Dwight finishes.

Three things happen in quick succession. First, the radio on the dashboard comes to life in a burst of static, Nathan’s voice filling the car. “Dwight,” he says, then adds “Duke. Any progress?” and when no answer comes, he sighs “You two alright?”

The second thing that happens, following Nathan’s tired question, is that Duke goes completely rigid, his eyes squeezed shut, hips jerking and moving against Dwight’s boot, cock straining against the denim, his throat clicking before he groans, the tone of it wounded and raw. The third thing, the thing that Dwight registers through a haze, is that Duke comes - grinding against Dwight’s boot to the sound of Nathan’s incessant questioning, Dwight squeezing Duke’s tense jaw while Duke sucks him hard and fast, his face wetter than before, his lashes damp.

“Almost,” Dwight urges, staring at the goddamned radio and wishing Nathan would shut up, groaning “Almost, Duke, come on-”

Stay with me, Dwight is tempted to say, but it feels too intimate. It feels like the absolute worst thing to say, right now, when Duke is trembling, down on his knees, Nathan’s staticky voice still badgering them for answers while Duke’s shoulders go tighter and tighter, the entire line of his body tense. “Duke,” Dwight snaps, his voice harsh, “Focus on _me_. Focus on this.”

It works, for a minute, but it’s long enough. Duke shudders and blinks up at Dwight with glassy eyes, his head bobbing faster, nose buried against Dwight’s stomach when Duke sucks him harder, messy with saliva and precome and tears, Dwight’s orgasm rapidly building, his thighs going tense beneath Duke’s fingers. The hand at his ass drags Dwight a little closer, practically forcing him to the edge of his seat, boot still buried between Duke’s thighs, his breath coming out thin and harsh, fist holding Duke’s hair in a vice.

When Dwight comes, he comes silently. He grips Duke’s hair, his head falling back against the top of the seat, hips jerking, cock buried deep in Duke’s mouth, almost flinching when Duke laps at his softening cock to clean him up, swallowing Dwight down through a noise that’s almost a sob, pulling off to rest his cheek against Dwight’s thigh, wordlessly declaring that they’re done.

Dwight’s hand fumbles on the radio. “We’re fine,” he interrupts Nathan’s half-formed inquiry, “We’re good. Haven’t seen anything,” he says, tossing the radio in the backseat, watching Duke rub at his face, eyes half-lidded and bloodshot, an expression on his face that Dwight can’t quite figure out. He doesn’t ask, though. All Dwight does is grab Duke under the arm and help him back up and into his seat, rolling down the window to let in the cool, fresh breeze, the two of them sitting in tense silence.

Dwight ends up being the one to break it. “Nathan,” he intones, glancing at Duke. “Really?”

“Shut up,” Duke croaks, undoing his ponytail and gathering his messy hair back, clumsily putting it in a loose bun. He looks smaller than before, somehow, jumping practically a foot into the air when Dwight puts a hand on his shoulder, thumb digging into the muscle between Duke’s shoulder and neck. “Shut up, man. Just…”

“Shut up?” Dwight guesses, trying to ease the tension out of Duke’s neck, watching his chin tilt almost all the way down to his chest. “Yeah, message received. Are you…”

Trailing off, Dwight knows it’s a stupid question to ask, but that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t check, anyway. “Are you going to be alright?”

Duke laughs and it’s hollow and still somehow manages to fill up all the space left over in the car. “I will be,” he murmurs, “Aren’t I always?”

Privately, Dwight disagrees. He’s seen the fractures before, in moments where Duke was certain nobody was watching, running weary hands through his hair after Nathan left the room, before Audrey could bring a smile back to his face. Alright is relative, Dwight figures, but he thinks it’s the bare minimum, noticing Duke. Nobody ever seems to notice Duke.

He hums in agreement, trying not to make Duke feel more cornered. Duke is shifting restlessly in his seat, relaxing a fraction beneath Dwight’s hand, huffing an incredulous and mostly genuine laugh when Dwight zips himself back up and buckles his belt, rolling his eyes at Duke’s tired laughter. “You want to be busted for public nudity?” Dwight asks, reaching out to fiddle with the radio, finding a channel playing the greatest hits of the 80s, letting the silence be filled by something upbeat and wildly out of place for the moment.

It does the trick, making Duke focus on something else. “It is pathetic,” he says after a while, sliding down in his seat, drumming along with his fingers to the beat of the song. “You weren’t wrong.”

Dwight gets a feeling Duke isn’t talking about the sex. “Nah,” Dwight says, disagreement clear in his tone, “You have shitty taste in men, though. You could do a lot better.”

Duke steals a look at him, looking like he’s about to smile and like he’s angry about it. “Glowing praise,” he scoffs, “Coming from the guy I just gave a _spectacular_ orgasm,” Duke counters and Dwight grins, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, humming noncommittally, patting Duke’s thigh.

“Like I said,” Dwight groans, his legs stiff from so long in the car, “You could do a lot better, Duke.”

Duke is still looking at him, gaze heavy with suspicion and reluctant relief, but he doesn’t say anything and Dwight is content to sit in silence until Audrey officially declares that there’s no point in staying out there any longer. He wants to go home and crawl beneath the covers and sleep for a lifetime, but Dwight doesn’t mind this, either, sitting side by side with Duke, a newfound understanding brokered between them. It’s peaceful, Duke even reaching to adjust the volume and find another channel, making faces at the songs he’s flipping through.

“Hey,” Duke suddenly says, perking up, his smile taking on a sly edge, “I love this song.”

“I swear to god-” Dwight manages, laughing helplessly when Duke belts out a terrible rendition of All Men Are Pigs, his voice cracking right down the middle, breaking off into laughter when Dwight sighs before joining in, the two of them practically shouting in an effort to drown out the other. Duke’s smile is stretching wide and genuine for the first time in days and after a minute, Duke is dissolving into gasping half-sentences and chuckles, throwing a hand out to muffle Dwight, a half-assed struggle ensuing, Duke’s hands lingering on Dwight’s chest.

“Yeah,” Dwight finally ends up huffing, pulling Duke’s hair to hear him yelp, “Figures you’d still be a pain in my ass, after all of this.”

There’s no easy way to bridge the gap between them. Duke is still going to make Dwight want to strangle him, the next time they’re forced to work together, but Duke seems to have let go of some of the animosity, lounging in his seat, grinning at Dwight when he croons “Figuratively or literally? I’m not picky.”

It's a blatantly obvious attempt at lightening the mood, but Dwight rolls with it, not seeing a point in pushing Duke about everything that happened ten minutes ago. “Don’t push your luck, Duke,” Dwight huffs, “At least buy me dinner first.”

After a minute of silence, Duke seems to accept that Dwight would rather not keep talking about it, accepting that everything that needs to be said has been said, Duke slowly starting to hum along to the next song. After a brief pause, Duke is transitioning into singing below his breath, Dwight not saying a word when Duke’s hand settles on his knee, looking for something to ground him.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Narc by Interpol. ✿ Much love to the stellar [sterlingsuspenders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterlingsuspenders/pseuds/sterlingsuspenders) for providing emotional support & advice during the writing of this one shot.
> 
> Check out my [other Haven fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcarl/pseuds/crownedcarl/works?fandom_id=9218791)!
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://dickardgansey.tumblr.com)!


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